


A Walking Paradox

by EloquentDossier



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cutesy, Ed is a tiny bit oblivious, M/M, Pre-Slash, Very Slight Spoilers, but he'll get there eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EloquentDossier/pseuds/EloquentDossier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>James Gordon was a fairly complex riddle. Perhaps even a walking paradox. Ed hadn't quite made up his mind on the latter possibility yet; he needed more data.</em>
</p><p>xxx</p><p>In which Jim pays a little too much attention to what goes on around the GCPD (but is particularly interested in instances involving a certain forensic scientist) and Ed is a little too concerned with wooing Kristen Kringle to notice what's right in front of him (but is capable of using the perplexity that comes with it to answer a pressing question about a certain detective).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Walking Paradox

**Author's Note:**

> I made a mistake and watched Gotham. Inspiration struck, and here we are. Set around the events in 1.12, "What The Little Bird Told Him" and 1.13, "Welcome Back, Jim Gordon." If people actually seem to enjoy it, I may make it into a series of sorts.

James Gordon was a fairly complex riddle. Perhaps even a walking paradox. Ed hadn't quite made up his mind on the latter possibility yet; he needed more data. With what he had already gathered about Jim, however, he doubted he would be waiting too long for the information necessary to form a conclusion. And that was a good thing. He wasn't overly fond of waiting.

* * *

"Hey, Ed. Thought I might find you down here," Jim commented as he entered the autopsy room.

Ed spared him a glance but didn't respond, not quite in the mood for company. Given his location (he was eating his dinner in a room he'd been warned to stay out of several times—where _corpses_ were examined, even—instead of in his office as per his customary routine), he assumed that particular detail would be obvious, so he returned his gaze to his meal and continued sullenly pushing his food around on his plate, expecting to hear the sound of the door closing behind the detective as he left.

But that sound never came. Perplexed, he looked up again, somewhat startled to find the other man standing almost directly in front of him. How had he crossed the room so silently? Jim didn't seem inclined to leave, hovering almost nervously. After a long moment during which the straight-laced detective mostly avoided eye contact, Ed sighed and gave in, asking flatly, "Did you need something?"

It was almost amusing, watching the typically confident man shift on his feet and hearing him clear his throat—but only almost. It didn't quite brighten his mood. "I don't think you should give up," Jim answered, warm blue eyes finally daring to meet his. There was an intensity to them that Ed was fairly certain was usually reserved for cases, and it was mildly unsettling, although not necessarily in a bad way. He pushed the puzzling reaction aside to be analyzed at a more convenient time, and instead chose to concern himself with determining what exact plight his colleague was encouraging him to pursue.

There were very few instances in his life in which he could recall giving up, and none of them had occurred recently. The only thing even close was—no. There was absolutely no way Jim had heard about that. Very few people in the GCPD wanted to talk to him about anything, a sometimes unfortunate issue they both shared. (If he were to be entirely honest, he actually preferred it that way because most of his encounters were less than pleasant. Jim was the only one who didn't mock him, but the detective was nearly as much of a black sheep as he was—or perhaps "a lone wolf" was a more apt descriptor even if it wasn't _entirely_ accurate.)

"Ed?" the detective prompted, and the forensics expert blinked as his focus actually returned to his surroundings.

Opting to make a logical leap, Ed pushed his glasses up on his nose and remarked, "You're referring to Miss Kringle."

The brown-haired man seemed relieved that the topic was finally broached, a gentle smile playing at his lips as he leaned against the table. "Yes. You're a good guy, Nygma. You're considerate and think about small details most people would miss. Like requesting we wear galoshes during a case with someone going by the name Electrocutioner." His smile became more pronounced, brightening the blue of his eyes. "Thank you for that, by the way. We wouldn't have wrapped this case up so easily if you hadn't suggested those."

Ed felt his face flush with pleasure at the compliment, and he allowed himself a tiny, proud smile. "It also saved you from a rather large amount of electricity surging through your body," he added matter-of-factly. Jim's responding chuckle sent unbidden warmth through his chest, catching him off guard, and the comfortable silence that fell over them was a heartbeat too long.

The detective broke it first, clearing his throat. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that sometimes people overlook what's directly in front of them. Give it a little time. Show her the thoughtful side of you. And if a few boyfriends down the way she still hasn't come around, well... Either decide if she's really the one worth waiting for, or set your sights on new horizons." With one last, tentative smile, Jim pushed himself off the table. "Just take some time to think about it."

Ed didn't respond; instead he watched his colleague walk across the room, steps purposeful and echoing around them. He had to give the man credit; there were certain measures being taken to make people believe what they wanted. He briefly wondered if anyone knew the real Jim Gordon.

"You know," the brown-haired detective's voice drew him from his thoughts. He was lingering in the doorway, half-turned towards the room. "Earlier, I thought I had you stumped there for a moment."

The forensics expert couldn't stop the smile that curved his lips. "Never," he retorted, and Jim smiled and shook his head before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him. Ed turned back to his dinner and speared a carrot with his fork, lifting it for inspection as he contemplated the detective's words. "Considerate and thoughtful. Huh." He slipped the carrot into his mouth as he mulled over his options, chewing methodically. Perhaps there was a different approach he could take with Miss Kringle.

* * *

The knock on his office door came as Ed was preparing to go home. He glanced up, ready to resign himself to another long evening—and found himself smiling at the friendly face staring back at him. "Hello, detective," he greeted jovially. "'I am born in fear, raised in truth, and I come to my own in deed. When comes a time that I'm called forth, I come to serve the cause of need.'" Jim's brows rose, so he added helpfully, "It's a riddle."

"Yeah, I got that. I just..." the detective trailed off, looking as though he wanted to say something, but then his gaze shifted to the side in thought.

Ed waited expectantly, but after thirty seconds passed, he was tired of it. "Do you give up?"

Blue eyes glanced up at him, and two heartbeats later, Jim sighed. "Yeah," he murmured. "I do." He sounded almost disappointed, though the forensics expert couldn't fathom why. At least he tried, unlike the rest of the GCPD, and he'd actually correctly answered more riddles than Ed had ever expected.

"The answer is courage. I thought what you did this evening—standing up to Flass and his cronies—was a very courageous and noble act," Ed commended. "No one else would have ever done that."

The brown-haired detective observed him silently for a moment before smiling and ducking his head. "And your appreciation doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Flass ridiculed the poem you wrote?" Jim lifted his head slightly, raising his brows once more, and Ed blinked in surprise, unable to voice the protest building up in his throat. "It's all right, Ed. I know you meant what you said about courage. Listen, I won't keep you here much longer. I just wanted to make sure things with you and Kringle were resolved and that her visit earlier didn't end badly."

"Actually, she came to apologize. She said she found my card thoughtful," the forensics expert answered, his lips quirking into a smile at the memory. "Our encounter ended on very pleasant terms."

Jim nodded with a faint smile. "Good. That's good. All right, well, see you tomorrow, then."

His colleague turned to leave, and he quickly called out, "Goodnight, Jim." The sure, confident footfalls faltered for barely a half-second before continuing away from his office, and Ed smiled to himself.

As he resumed putting his work tools away, he thought back on their conversation and wondered once again how the detective had found out about his interactions involving Miss Kringle. During the case Flass had been a prime suspect, and it had caused a great deal of contention between most of the detectives. The probability of anyone close to Flass speaking about what had occurred in the records annex was very low, so for Jim to have heard about it—well, it proved to be quite the conundrum. But those instances (coupled with other similar comments of occurrences the detective truly had no way of knowing about because in all actuality _Ed_ likely had more support from the GCPD, and wasn't _that_ a disconcerting revelation) finally allowed him to make a decision concerning the man.

James Gordon was a walking paradox. And that detail only served to intrigue him even more.


End file.
